


Small Wonder

by starsqwub



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsqwub/pseuds/starsqwub
Summary: Poe and Finn celebrate new beginnings.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	Small Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Just sort of wrote and ran with this one! Feel good fluff for everyone. <3 Hope you enjoy!!

Finn is really cute. Like, really, _really_ cute.

Like,

the kind of cute where he wears turtleneck sweaters, and you never wear turtleneck sweaters, right? They don’t work on you, they make you look like a pastor, or a thumb. But they make him look like an angel wrapped in cashmere. 

It’s t-shirts, too. It’s everything. He could make a potato sack cute.

It’s _Finn_.

Poe keeps thinking about stuff like this lately. Stuff he shouldn’t be thinking about.

Like,

how Finn’s arms looked lifting all those moving boxes into Poe’s new apartment,

and,

how they’d sat on his couch in his new living room, drinking gas station coffee, laughing at all the crap Poe owned piled up in boxes around them,

and,

how Poe sort of wished some of that crap was Finn’s.

“Wanna meet at Maz’s tonight?” Finn had offered, giving Poe’s knee a shake. “We gotta celebrate.”

Finn’s hand was very, very warm.

Poe nodded. “Alright. Drinks on me.” He gave Finn’s hand a pat. “Thanks again, buddy.”

“Why would I ever pass up an excuse to be with you,” Finn said, knocking his shoulders into Poe’s.

Finn says cute shit like that all the time.   
  
It sort of drives Poe nuts.

* * *

Poe is really dumb sometimes. Like, really, _really_ dumb.

Like,

You could hire a plane to spell “I love you Poe Dameron” in the sky, and Poe’d think it’s for a different Poe Dameron in town. You could probably kiss him right on the lips and he’d take it as a friendly _hello_. You could ask your best friend Rey to switch shifts with you at work just so you can help Poe move to his new place, touch his knee, brush shoulders, ask him to drinks, flirt a little,

but it’s Poe, and he can be so _dumb_.

It sort of drives Finn nuts.

Finn tries to not overthink his outfit, though, standing at the full length mirror in his tidy room. (Finn was tidy. Poe was definitely not. Finn makes his bed every morning.

He wonders if Poe makes his.

Finn keeps wondering things like that lately. Things he should keep himself from wondering about.)

Maybe the turtleneck’s too fancy. It’s just Maz’s, right? He and Poe have probably tried every drink, appetizer, and dessert on that menu twice-over, and then some, and _then some_. Judging Finn’s luck, tonight wasn’t likely to be anything special. It’ll just be… them, like always.

Finn tugs a bit at the sleeves of his turtleneck.

Anything with Poe is special.

He sticks with the turtleneck and bounds out the door.

* * *

It’s like he’s doing it on purpose now. You know. The cute thing.

Poe watches Finn stride into the bar, smiling wide at Maz and showing all his teeth (and sporting that damn turtleneck, no less). Finn gives out smiles like he’s paid to do it; Poe realizes he’s smiling now too, like a total dope, and swings his arms out wide for a hug. Finn falls into it easily, because this is them, like always.

Poe’s chin brushes against Finn’s sweater; he leaves it there a few seconds longer than he needs to, swaying a bit. “It’s good to see you,” he says without thinking. Is that a weird thing to say to someone you basically spent your whole day with? Maybe, but it’s the truth—  
  
But Finn says, “It’s good to see you, too,” into Poe’s ear, and gives him an extra squeeze, his thumb rubbing the space between his shoulder blades; so Poe relaxes a little, and the two slide onto their seats at the bar.

They order their drinks. Poe feels Finn’s dark eyes on him, scrutinizing.

Poe blinks. “What?”

Finn’s eyes flit about Poe’s jawline (which makes Poe’s brain go a little fuzzy), and he says, “I feel like I blinked and you turned into a pirate overnight.”

Poe scratches his chin a little self-consciously; he’d been growing a beard for a few months now. It was only a few days shy of looking particularly unruly. The beard sort of came with the move; new place, new Poe. “You don’t like it.”

Finn laughs. “I didn’t say that.” His eyes gleam.

The corners of Poe’s lips twitch into a sly grin. With one eye squeezed shut, and his index finger curved like a hook, he crows, “Yo ho ho.”

And Finn’s face crumples with the laugh he’s trying to hold back; Poe bites his lip.   
  
Everything is worth this.

Their first round of drinks is served up, and shared over lots of laughs, and truly terrible pirate impressions.

* * *

Poe is so freaking _stubborn_. Finn flops limply against the countertop and groans. “Poe, please, take the money. It’s too much!” He waves his handful of cash with a flourish, but Poe quickly pushes it away, wrapping Finn’s hand with his own.

“No no no no, I told you Finn, tonight’s,” Poe twirls a finger and pokes his own nose, “on _moi_. You helped me move all that crappola, it would’ve taken me WEEKS on my own!”

“You would’ve never had to move on your own, Poe,” Finn says with a low chuckle. Poe’s hand is very, _very_ warm over his. Like Finn’s cheeks, rosy with the buzz of far too many happy hour Maz Margs. Finn wiggles free from Poe’s grasp and starts stuffing the cash up Poe’s sleeve. “Taaaaake it,” he laughs, “you’re so stubborn! God!”

Poe cackles, prying the cash from his sleeve and pushing it into Finn’s face. They’re both laughing so hard that Finn doesn’t really register the next words Poe says; they float in the air like ambiance around the bar, and slowly settle into Finn’s ears: “You’re so cute.”

Finn blinks. His eyes dart to Poe’s, which probably mirror his own: wide, waiting, maybe filled with a little dash of wonder.

(This isn’t like always. Not _quite_.)

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Poe asks then, and his eyes are still wondering. “Back at my place, I mean. I don’t… have any food or anything, so I guess it’s not—“

Finn puckers his lips. “Do you have moving boxes, per chance.”   
  
Poe’s eyes crinkle at the edges. He nods. “ _Oh_ , I have moving boxes. Mountains of ‘em.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Finn says, resting his head sideways along the countertop. Poe is handsome no matter which way you look at him.

And apparently, Finn is _so_ _cute_.

(This is _definitely_ not like always.)

Poe squints a bit. “We really should order some food though.”

Finn offers his wad of cash again; “Alright, my treat.”   
  
“What was that, buddy?” Poe says, playing puzzled, and he grabs Finn’s hand to push it aside. “Hey Maz, can we grab some fries to go?”  
  
“You ass,” Finn laughs.

(Some things never change.

But Finn sort of hopes _some_ things _will_.)

* * *

Finn is really cute, and Poe is screwed. Like,

 _really_ screwed.

They had to go through a few boxes before they found the one full of Poe’s movies. Poe kneels and spreads the DVDs out along the hardwood floor one by one, and Finn slips down next to him, leaning his weight into Poe’s braced arm. 

It’s sort of nice, Poe thinks. The weight. The warmth.   
  
“As you can see, we have a diverse array of classics here in the Poe vault,” he says with an overly grand flourish.

Finn nods, and now his head’s resting heavily on Poe’s shoulder, too. “ _Lady and the Tramp_ … _Sleeping Beauty_ … Poe, this is a lot of cartoons,” Finn says with a cheeky grin, reaching for Poe’s copy of _Cinderella_.

“Like I said, the classics.” Poe reaches back into the DVD box. “I probably have something with less, ah, singing and kissing in here somewhere…”

But Finn slaps Poe’s thigh with the DVD case for _Cinderella_. “I’m down. Haven’t seen this in ages.” He stands and crosses the room to set up the movie, while Poe watches idly from his seat on the floor.

His gaze traces along Finn’s wide shoulders. Glides down his back, to the bunched up folds where his sweater hits his waist. Drifts down, down, down—

To _hell_ with Maz’s happy hour. Poe rubs his eyes hard; he absolutely shouldn’t be checking Finn’s butt like he’s checking the weather. (Forecast: Clear skies, tight jeans, and _Christ_ , how many drinks did he down back there—)  
  
“Poe? You feelin’ okay?” Finn asks, and the DVD menu lights up along Poe’s TV screen, framing Finn in a light glow. “If you’re tired, we don’t—“

“I’m good! I’m fine, I…” Poe moves from the floor to his couch; Finn follows. “Just something in my eye.”

_So screwed._

* * *

Apparently Poe is one of those types who quotes movies aloud while you’re watching them, though Finn isn’t sure Poe’s all that aware of it. Finn’s focus drifts from the TV to Poe in the corner of his eye, curled up with a pillow in his lap and muttering line after line: _“‘Oh, that clock. Old killjoy._

_…They can’t order me to stop dreaming._

_…But for short, we’ll call you Gus.’”_

Finn grins; Poe’s voice matches their cadence. He makes the same expressions.

And he half-hums, half-sings every song.

Poe is really, _really_ cute.

Their feet are touching on the couch.

When Cinderella’s pink dress is torn to shreds by her step-sisters, Poe’s brow creases, and his lip forms a big, pink pout. He gets up up from the couch to tear open another box when Cinderella’s crying in the garden.

“What’s up,” Finn asks.

“Blanket.” Poe pulls a very soft looking yellow blanket from the moving box and plops back into his seat, tossing the blanket over his and Finn’s feet.

Finn and Poe’s feet overlap again, their bony ankles criss-crossing in the warm space beneath the yellow blanket.

Finn thinks of magic spells, and clocks striking midnight, and songs hummed softly under your breath.

“This is nice,” Finn sighs. He means the movie, of course.

But really, he means all of this. Everything. He means Poe’s moving boxes and his movie quoting and their tangle of ankles and how warm he feels.

He means _everything_.

Finn’s heartbeat quickens. He closes his eyes, takes a breath: “Poe…”

“We should watch the sequels next.”

Finn blinks as his brain buffers. “…Sequels?”   
  
Poe’s eyes stay glued to the TV screen. “Oh yeah. _Cinderella 2: Dreams Come True_ , _Cinderella 3: A Twist In Time_ ,” he says, completely deadpan.

“A Twist In…?” Finn swings his head back for a big laugh. “Let me guess—“

“They’re classics!” Poe says, his face lighting up with a toothy grin. “C’mon!”

“Of course, you’re so right,” Finn leans up from his corner on the couch, “‘cuz when I think _cinema_ , I think _Die Hard_ , and _Casablanca_ , and _Cinderella 3_ …“

“ _Cinderella 3: A Twist In Time,_ yes. Believe me, you’ll thank me later,” Poe says, playfully tossing his pillow into Finn’s lap. His gaze quickly whips back to the TV; on the screen, Cinderella’s ruined dress transforms into a beautiful ball gown.

But all Finn can watch is Poe.

Poe sighs softly. “You’re right, this is nice.”

Maybe Finn had it all wrong. Tonight really was special, somehow, in a brand new way. There was something in the air, from the moment they’d stepped foot into the empty apartment that morning. A fresh start, a new story, a magic spell.

Why not kiss him?

Poe’s voice is hardly audible as he murmurs along with Cinderella’s fairy godmother on the TV screen: _“'On the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before.'”_

Finn checks the time on his phone:

well past midnight.

* * *

Finn’s so freaking _stubborn_ , and Poe’s still juuuust drunk enough to really let him know it.

“Finn, buddy, pal, for the last time, you’re not walking home. I’m serious. I will fight you if I have to,” Poe says, and even though it kind of kills him to do it, he pauses _Cinderella_ right in the middle of his most favorite scene.

“Good luck with that,” Finn teases. “I’m fine, Poe, really; it’s not even that far.”   
  
But Poe’s cheeks feel sort of hot, and his voice is too loud for nearly two in the morning: “I’m not across the hall anymore Finn, I’m halfway across town.”

It feels like halfway across the planet, now. The thought Poe’d been avoiding all day and night with the help of moving boxes and margaritas comes crashing down on him all at once: Finn’s not gonna be his neighbor anymore. Finn won’t always be nearby. The very first real smile Poe’d received when he moved to the city two years ago was from Finn.

Poe’s face burns.

“I don’t want things to _change_ ,” he hears himself saying.

Finn’s expression is nearly unreadable in the dark of the apartment, but the glow from the TV screen highlights the slightest furrow in his brow. “You don’t?” Finn says eventually.

“No,” Poe answers immediately. “What if, what if we can’t…” He doesn’t quite know how to end that particular thought.

Finn sits up straight, the yellow blanket quickly slipping from his shoulders and arms. “C’mon Poe, don’t say that. This is a good thing. You hated that old place! This apartment’s perfect for you. You’re closer to your parents, to work, not to mention…!” Finn waggles his brows. “Dog friendly! You can finally get that corgi you’ve been dreaming of!”  
  
“I didn’t hate it,” Poe says quietly.

Finn looks to him, expectantly.

“You were there.” Poe’s toes curl and uncurl beneath the yellow blanket, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s holding his breath. “I didn’t hate it.”

They sit silently on the couch, bathed in pale light. It’s almost like time’s stopped completely, until Finn finally speaks again. “Well,” he says, not quite meeting Poe’s eyes, “I think a little change might be good. For you.” Poe doesn’t exactly know where this is going, but then Finn adds, “For us.”

(Poe still doesn’t know where this is going.)

“Things might be… _different_.” Finn shifts carefully in his seat, sliding just an inch or two closer to Poe on the couch. “But what if different is,” Finn takes a breath, “better.”

“Better,” Poe repeats, and he feels himself leaning closer to Finn. “In what way.”

(Maybe he does know where this is going.)

Finn’s closer than he’s ever really been before.

(Poe really hopes this is where this is going.)

Finn’s gaze drifts to Poe’s mouth. “Poe, can I…”  
  
“Please,” Poe answers.

And yes, he realizes,

different is _so much better._

* * *

Kissing Poe Dameron is a kind of _like always_ that Finn could certainly get used to.

He takes the kiss slowly, this small wonder in the dark.

Their hands quietly reach and fumble, like little questions; Poe’s hover over Finn’s sides, while Finn’s brush along Poe’s neck and face.

The beard is really, _really_ nice.

Kissing Poe is so nice.

Everything is _new_ again.

Everything’s worth this.

* * *

It’s Finn.

He’s kissing _Finn_.

He’s—

Poe’s eyes flutter open, and he pulls back a bit from Finn’s lips, taking a breath. “Is this really happening?” he asks, voice all high. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m, ah, _really_ glad it is. Like. Wow. Just.” Poe laughs, mostly to himself. _“Wow.”_

Finn cracks a smile and relaxes a bit, leaning into Poe’s lap. “I’ve been thinking about doing this for a looooong time,” he says, almost shyly, and Poe’s jaw nearly drops.

“Seriously?” He looks around the room. “Wait. With me? _Really?”_

Finn guffaws. “Duh with you! Have you _seen_ you?” And Finn slowly grazes a finger down Poe’s neck. “I’ve seen you,” he says lowly.

Poe swallows, goosebumps prickling lightly along the trail Finn traces. He looks up and down Finn, doesn’t let himself shy away. He whispers, “I’ve seen you, too.”

“Yeah?” Finn says, closing the distance between them,

and Poe just can’t believe it’s real,

but it’s _real_ ,

and it’s _Finn_.

* * *

They actually do finish the movie; “It’s a classic,” Finn insists, which earns him a kiss on his cheek and nose and chin.

He lays his head in Poe’s lap, while Poe’s hand brushes lazy lines up and down Finn’s side.

 _“But you see…”_ Cinderella says, and Poe sleepily along with her, _“I have the other slipper.”_

Finn smiles. The movie’s a lot better than he remembered.

And he falls asleep to Poe humming one of the songs from the movie;

the one that goes,

_so this is love._


End file.
